


The Aftermath

by LadyKailitha



Series: The Strictly Friends Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Just Friends, PTSD John, Post The Great Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKailitha/pseuds/LadyKailitha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after the events at the swimming pool, this what I think they went through in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This work unbeta'ed and therefor not as good as it could be.

"If you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich. If you don't I'll make you into shoes." Moriarty walked off and just before he exited the room, snapped his fingers and all the little red dots vanished as though they had never been. I couldn't breath. My body started to convulse. 

"Sherlock-" I whispered as my body continued to betray me. Somewhere in front of me I heard a "Sploosh!" the sound of the explosives hitting the water. In the back of my mind I thought, "Lestrade isn't going to like that." But the convulsions soon drove all thoughts from my head. 

My leg ached, my shoulder throbbed, my hand shook, my heart raced, my breathing slowed. 

I could feel Sherlock's hands wrap around my arms. He was shaking me. My eyes focused a little as I could hear sirens. 

"Stay with me, John." His voice seemed so distant, like a world away. I tried nod, I think I nodded but I can't remember. 

The next thing I remembered is waking up at the hospital surrounded by friends and family. But there was one conspicuously absent. 

"Sherlock," I rasped my voice and throat gone dry. Harry rushed to my side with water. She pressed it against my lips and sipped it, savoring the rush of cool water down my throat. 

I uttered the name again and this time my eyes focused on the faces around me. There was Harry, who looked as though she had been drinking. A lot. There was Mrs. Hudson concern written on that dear old face. There was Mike Stanford, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit coat, he looked as though he had just stopped pacing. Sarah. Oh god. She kept looking at Harry, glaring daggers at her for being there first with the water. There was even Lestrade, here no doubt to take my statement. Everyone turned him when I mentioned my absentee flatmate. 

"He's not here." Lestrade looked uncomfortable. I closed my eyes and curled up on my side. I clutched the pillow. I heard people shuffle out but someone stopped and I could hear Lestrade.

"Go on. I'll handle this." Whoever it was closed the door quietly behind them. I could hear the scraping of a chair being pulled close to the bed. 

"John. I need you with me. Sit up mate." His voice was so calm, that I found myself obeying him. I pressed the button on the bed and rose to meet my back. I didn't think i was strong enough to do it on my own for long. 

Lestrade's big brown eyes never left me as I adjusted myself. 

"Where's Sherlock?" I wanted my answer first before he asked me all his. 

"Sod it John. You know him better then I do. Where do you think he is?" I closed my eyes against the pain. 

"Hunting Moriarty." A tear dripped down my face. I didn't even bother to wipe it away. 

"Now the only thing I need from you as Sherlock was able to deduce everything about your abduction. I just want to know if you saw anyone other then Moriarty and if anything was said to you." 

I opened my eyes and starred at the ceiling. After moment or two I answered. 

"No. They wore masks and only Moriarty said anything. He told me that he'd be in my ear the whole time and if I tried anything. Boom!" 

Lestrade nodded. "Get some rest mate." he grasped my shoulder briefly and then he was gone too. I starred up at the ceiling, wanting it to fall on me. Tears started to stream down my face. 

"I failed." I told the wall. "When Sherlock needed me the most I fell apart. Now I've lost his trust." I curled up on my side again. I looked at my left hand as it shook. 

Two days later I was released from the hospital and fully expected Mrs. Hudson to be in the taxi that had come to take me home. I was surprised to see Sherlock sitting there instead. He scooted over to let me in and I limped over to the taxi. His eyes were cold and calculating. 

He never said a word as we drove home. The silence was painful. We always talked in the taxi. Laughing and giggling like children. But today there was nothing. 

When we reached Baker St. he leapt out of the car paid the driver and disappeared into the flat. I thanked the driver and slowly made my way back to my room. I threw my stuff on the dresser and stripped down out of my clothes. I got under covers completely naked and waited for oblivion. 

Oblivion never came but my nightmares did. First they were the normal ones. The war and the violence and blood and cries of dying men, I couldn't save. And then they took on a new tenor. That of Sherlock being blown back, shrapnel marring his white skin. I woke up screaming. 

I got up and took a cold shower. Letting the shock to my system wash away the residue of the nightmare. I got dressed, well I put on my pajamas anyway and crept downstairs. As I neared the door to the rest of the flat I could hear the soft sweet sound of a violin being played. It was so sad and melancholy that I almost stopped. 

But I opened the door and instead of stopping the music went from soft and sad to louder and more sweet. Once the song ended, he looked at me and I looked down in shame. I went to go get a cup of tea and when I came out again he was gone. I looked at the closed door to his bedroom. 

The next couple days were the same. More nightmares. More Sherlock leaving when I entered a room. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and called Sarah. 

"Hello?" Sarah answered.

"Hi, can I come over?" I asked. It was almost begging. There was silence on the other end for a moment. 

"Yes." and then she hung up. I went over there, she opened the door and we just stared at each other for a moment and then she stepped out of the way. I limped in. 

"You never told me that you had a sister." Were the first words out of her mouth. I clenched and unclenched my hands. 

"Harry and I don't get along. We never have. To be honest I was surprise that she had cared enough to get out her drunken stupor long enough to visit me the hospital. If any good comes out of it hopefully it'll scare her straight." She had crossed her arms as I started but had relaxed by the time I finished. 

"What happened?" It was more an accusation then a question. 

I closed my eyes. "I always knew that living with Sherlock was dangerous. Hell our first date was proof enough of that." She nodded. "I'm surprised you stayed with me."

"I figured it could only go up there." She laughed. But it had this hallow sound. 

"I'm so sorry. Look. Let's just get away for a bit. Just you and me. I have a friend in New Zealand that has been begging for me to come visit for months now and with the money I was paid for my trouble with Moriarty by Mycroft I can afford to take us for a couple weeks."

She looked at me, her eyes hard as flint. But they softened as she saw that I was serious. 

"Let make some phone calls and we'll leave at the end of the week." I leaped up and swung her around and then kissed her. 

"You won't regret it." I told her. As I walked home, the limp slowly disappearing as neared Baker St. When I got home, Sherlock wasn't there. He wasn't there to hear my news. As I got ready to go there was still no sign of Sherlock. I assumed that he was off on a case. I wasn't evolved with all of them. Sometimes they were just stories he told me after the fact. I liked those. But I missed the excitement. 

It was a good couple of weeks. When I got home Sherlock had made a mess of the flat.

"Sherlock!" I was furious. The look in his eyes was hard as he turned to face me. 

"Oh so are you done avoiding me?" Came the harsh reply. 

"I was avoiding you?" I asked incredulously. "For god's sake Sherlock! I was In New Zealand for two weeks! Which you would have know by the way if you hadn't been an ass and walked out the room every time I entered since I got home from the hospital."

He got this confused expression on his face. "No I didn't." 

"Yes Sherlock you did. The only time you didn't is that first night with the violin but you were gone by the time I came back in with the tea."

"John I-"

"No! Damn it! We are getting this out now!"

I had never seen Sherlock look defeated.

"John I-"

"Stop it! I almost lost you! You could have died. I could have died. And you wandered around like nothing happened. You didn't even notice I was gone! What the hell Sherlock!"

He stuck his hand is pockets and looked down. "You got too close John," his voice was soft and I could barely hear it. 

"Excuse me?" I was ready to hit him then. 

"You got too close." 

"Fine!" I slammed the door and stomped up to my room. Most of my clothes were already packed from the trip. So I threw them open my suitcases and began tossing in the rest of my clothes. I ignored him when Sherlock came and stood at the doorway watching me pack. Something caught his eye and frowning he walked over to the suit case that held the souvenirs from the trip. 

He picked up a miniature black dragon lounging on his hoard. The dragon's front gleamed a pale blue, that had reminded me of Sherlock's scarf. I looked up then. 

"I got it for you, keep it." I could barely keep the tension out of my voice. I wish I could have thrown it at him. 

"John." I ignored him and went back to packing. 

"Don't do this, John."

"Don't do what? Get close to you?" I spat. He closed his eyes and I looked away. 

"I've never needed anyone before." It sounded as if he was having trouble with this concept. 

"But you don't need me Sherlock." I whirled around on him, angry. "I was gone for two weeks and you didn't even miss me." My voice cracked and my knee gave out. He rushed to my side. I looked up at him in surprise. 

"John, I thought you knew by now when I get focused on a case I get blinders on. I don't see anything else."

"You didn't visit me in the hospital." I accused. "You didn't say anything on the way home. You left me alone with my nightmares for five days!" I struggled to get out of his grasp but that traitorous knee refused to hold my weight. 

"I didn't know what to say." He said, choosing to answer my second accusation first. "That was the second time you almost died because I was so focused on the case. So I left you out of this case hoping to distance you from it. I didn't want to see you hurt." He stopped and then cleared his throat. "And I did visit you."

I looked up sharply. 

"I watched as you crumbled." His voice was hoarse. "I was there as everyone accused me of doing it to you. That it was all my fault. And it was my fault John. I drove you away that day. Had I not made you so angry you wouldn't have left and I would have been able to protect you."

I clutched his shirt as he continued to hold me up. Slowly we sunk to the floor. I didn't know what to say to that. I couldn't say that it wasn't his fault, that it was okay. Because we both knew it wasn't. Finally I croaked, "But I failed you..."

"That's the second time you've said that. And neither time was accurate." The only other time I mentioned it was when I thought I was alone that first night I woke up in the hospital. He had come to visit me. More than that, he saw me at my lowest and he still said he needed me. 

"John, I've never had people I've cared about before. And it frightened me that Moriarty knew my one weakness. You John." He gripped my arms tighter.

"I never meant to be your weakness." I told him still clutching his shirt. 

"I never asked for a friend. All I asked was for someone to share the flat. But within hours of meeting I found someone who didn't treat me like a machine the way Lestrade does or a freak like everyone else. You saw in a way that others didn't. You saw me as special. And that made you special in return."

"I'm not special," I told him. I was just an ordinary soldier wounded in the war. 

"You are to me John. You are to me." I looked down at my hands and the left one had stopped shaking. 

All the anger was gone. The pain in my heart was still searing but I could feel Sherlock's hands wrapped around my arms. They both didn't need to hold on to each other for physical support. But they needed each other for emotional reasons. 

"John don't go." I nodded and he helped me stand. He waited until he was sure I could stand on my own before letting go. 

"Are you alright?" Sherlock's concern touched me deeply. I nodded. "I'll help you unpack." Soon everything was put away except Mrs. Hudson cookies and Sherlock's miniature dragon that I brought them back from New Zealand. 

"So why the dragon?" Sherlock asked hefting it in his hand. 

I laughed. "He reminded me of you. The black scales for you suits, the blue under belly for you scarf and then there is self-satisfied smirk on it's face." Sherlock brought it up closer to his face and squinted at it.

"Ah yes, I see it now. How was the trip then?" He wasn't sure if he should be offended about the smirk.

"It was a bit crazy they were about to start filming some fantasy film down there." I told him as I grabbed the biscuits to take down to Mrs. Hudson.

"Fantasy? Boring." I laughed.

We were back on a case the next day. And then I went to see Sarah that night to tell her about what happened the night before. 

When she opened the door I knew something was wrong and it wasn't jet-lag. 

"What's wrong?" I asked as she let me in with her head bowed. It was like she couldn't look me in the eye.

"We need to talk." Every man's worst nightmare, hearing those four little words. 

"Ummkay..." I said as moved to sit on the couch. 

"I'm sorry John but this trip just showed how far apart we actually are." I was stunned. I thought it had gone well. We laughed and had a good time. Or so I thought. 

"You talked about Sherlock the whole trip." I blinked at her and she just stared back. 

No I didn't, I almost said but the words died on lips. That's what Sherlock said last night when I told him he had been avoiding me. Of course he had. And of course I had. I would talk of our adventures. Mused aloud about what Sherlock would have thought of the funny little fat man with glasses and the perpetual pencil behind his ear. I spent more time looking for the perfect gift for him then I did picking out something special for her. I would talk about his avoiding me and how much it hurt, that I wold die to protect him but he couldn't manage to see me at the hospital. 

"I can see you working it out," she said. "I love you, John but I can't play second fiddle to a high-functioning sociopath." I looked at her and pursed my lips. 

"Right." I got up and went to the door as I opened it I thought of one last thing. "You sat there and listened to me complain that he never visited me. But you knew that to be false. You and Harry conspired to keep him from me, didn't you?" She didn't answer but the look on her face said it all. "Of course you did." I walked out the door and was about to slam it when I popped my head back in.

"I quit." I told her and then slammed the door behind me. As I walked back out to the street, I thought about how I felt. I first thought I was angry. But I didn't feel the warm anger that was sometimes a constant with Sherlock. It wasn't a cold feeling either. It wasn't that I didn't care. I did. It didn't feel like the blue tinged sadness. Disappointed. Yes that's what it was. I really liked Sarah and maybe that's what the problem was. I liked her but I didn't love her. 

So who did I love? Did I love Sherlock? I stopped for a moment to think about that one. I decided that I did in a way. Not the way everyone kept suggesting. Sherlock was more like a brother. Dearer than blood. 

Is that why the first words out of my mouth when I woke up in hospital? It wasn't something I quite understood yet. But it was getting cold and standing here in the chill spring air was not the best idea.

So I walked home. I could have taken a taxi but I needed to get my thoughts out. By time I had reached Baker St. I still wasn't any closer to finding a real answer. 

As I walked up to the door it flung open. 

"Ah John! New case! Come along!" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me along to the road where he hailed a cab.

"Sherlock! I wanted to relax for the rest of the night!" 

"How can you relax when there's something interesting going on?" I shrugged and he just hauled me into the cab.

"We'll talk later! There's a case! A case, John!"

It would be long time before we had that talk. A very long time.


End file.
